


Sherlock Has a New Addiction

by ibandnerdfangirl



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Rage Quit, apps, flappybird, johnlock if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibandnerdfangirl/pseuds/ibandnerdfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets a new phone and discovers the popular app, Flappybird. And he learns quickly that introducing the app to Sherlock may have been a tiny mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Has a New Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the game Flappybird and do not have any connection to it other than it being on my phone. All credit for the game goes to the developers and creators!!!

John's phone has definitely seen better days. Though, for what it's been through, he can't complain. It has been dropped on multiple occasions, thrown in a fit of rage, one time through a blender, and twice out the window. And when he wouldn't immediately reply to Sherlock's messages, it saw it's way to the bottom of the toilet. After it's third trip out the window, the screen finally cracked and wouldn't start up again. John decided to upgrade and buy a smartphone. It was more efficient, faster, and you could entertain yourself with apps. 

One day, after hearing about it among the crew at the latest crime scene, John succumb to the pressure to download the addicting app, Flappybird. He spent half of his lunch break continuously tapping the screen in an attempt to get a new high score. 

That night, he sat in his armchair and tapped away at the game, ignoring Sherlock's coming home. "What is that?" Sherlock's eyes squinted over John's shoulder as he hung up his coat. 

"Oh! It's just this ridiculous game I downloaded onto my phone." John furrowed his eyebrows in concentration as he began a new round, this time with Sherlock as an audience. The pixel bird didn't make it past the fourth pipe before it crashed, cuing John to sigh loudly. 

Sherlock scoffed and made his way to the equipment on the kitchen table, "Child's play. Even a man of the simplest skillset could accomplish something as easy as maneuvering a bird through an opening." 

The sound of clanking beakers rang through the quiet flat as John sat up and turned to look at his flatmate. "Well then if you're so high and mighty then why don't you try it yourself." John stuck out his arm, at the end of it, his hand held his brand new mobile phone. He smirked, knowing he had Sherlock cornered, not one to back down from a challenge.

"Alright then," the taller man snatched the phone from John, "I will." His long legs carried him to the couch, where he sat spread-eagle, his elbows resting upon his knees. Though out of John's sight, he could still hear the tapping of his phone and the low volume of the game.

He chuckled and stepped over to the cabinet's to make tea.

_Tap, tap, tap. Smack!_ The sound of the bird failing could be heard through the entire sitting area. 

John put water on to boil and the constant sounds of the game were the only noises to be heard. More tapping, then another "smack", and the added effect, Sherlock's grunting. 

Besides the consistent sounds of defeat, Sherlock was otherwise quiet. John walked through the sitting room to get downstairs to his landlady, "I'm going to see Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock was now on his back, arms in the air trying to play, his legs reaching the end of the couch. 

"Yes..." Was the only response. John shook his head, maybe Sherlock was better than that stupid game. 

He chatted with Mrs. Hudson the rest of the night before heading to his room, checking once on Sherlock, who was still going furiously at the game. 

____ 

The next morning, John went into the kitchen to make himself breakfast before work. Turning the corner, Sherlock was laying across the seat of three dining chairs, and Mycroft was in Sherlock's leather seat across the room. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and turned to his brother for answers. 

Mycroft sighed before taking John's hint, "He was like this when I got here." He backed further into the chair, looking to the ceiling as he stretched like a cat, "I really did think you were better than this little brother." A smirk played across his lips as he returned to his original position. No response was emitted from Sherlock. 

Seeing no fun in bickering when there wasn't a second reply, Mycroft decided that it was time for him to leave, "I do apologize about this. He went through a similar phase when we first bought Cluedo as children." And with that, Mycroft was gone from the scene. 

After several failed attempts at communicating, John gave up trying to talk to his flatmate. "I'm going to get changed. You still have work, too so don't spend your whole day on that." He nodded towards the phone and left Sherlock sprawled across the chairs. 

Buttoning up his shirt, John could hear Sherlock's rage growing with each click on the screen. A guttural growl could be heard between the thin door. He stuck his head out the door and called up to Sherlock, "Hey, you ok?" A yell was the response he got. 

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, taptaptap, tap. Smack!_

Sherlock jumped from his spot and yelled, "Damn it!" John smirked, surprised it took Sherlock this long, and that it actually emitted swearing from him, as he usually wasn't one to cuss. 

_Taptap, tap, tap, taptaptap. Smack!_ "GOD DAMNIT ALL TO HELL AND BACK!" _Thunk._

"Oi!" John leapt out of his room and met Sherlock, who was now bare-handed and glaring at the wall, where John's phone lay helpless at its base. "What did you do?!" He grabbed Sherlock's mobile and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "I'm taking yours until you get over that ridiculous game!" 

That night, after John got home from work, he found the flat in a mess. Paper had flown astray, beakers lay shattered near the fridge, his side table had been overturned. Sherlock has curled into the fetal position in the black armchair, his fingers wrapped tightly around the phone. 

"That's it," John decided. He reached over and yanked the phone from Sherlock grasp. He received a threatening glare from his partner, who began to rise from his spot, extending his arm. 

His voice low and menacing, Sherlock said, "I'll have that back now." 

"Sherlock, it's for your own good. I bet you didn't even go down to the Yard today." John slipped the thing into his trouser pocket and turned away. 

"It was not a request." Sherlock took one slow step towards John, "Give me. The phone." John took one look at Sherlock's face and thought better than taking the mobile. He handed it back, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he did so. 

Sherlock was impossible to reason with. John left him every morning in a new position, screaming profanity's at the cellular device. This went on for days, with occasional visits from Mycroft, and a few from Lestrade who was curious as to why his best detective was not showing up. Molly showed up once after hearing about this phenomenon. 

He had not slept for days, and had eaten only once because the phone needed charging. Mrs. Hudson had stopped bringing tea for Sherlock. 

John became worried, unsure of how to deal with the situation. He called Mycroft in desperate need of help, "I-I don't know what to do. It's worse then when he gets into a case." 

"That bad, huh." Said the voice from the other end of the phone. 

"You said he went through this before, how do I fix him?" John glanced uneasily at Sherlock, who had clear his desk just to sit on it.

"Let is pass. It always does." _Click._

Sherlock face had become weary from lack of energy, his skin a sickly pale, and stubble began forming around his chin. Fed up, John casually strode across the room and grabbed his phone once again, taking Sherlock by surprise. 

Sherlock's eyes were bewildered and he couldn't seem to find his voice, "Wha-" 

John threw open the window and leaned out. He hauled his arm behind his head before throwing it forward, releasing the phone as it did. He watched satisfactorily as the mobile made its dangerous decent into the streets. 

After letting himself inside again, he found Sherlock standing just behind him. "What- What did you...?" His face was etched with rage, more towards the game than anything, and sorrow for his loss. 

John nodded once before letting himself into Sherlock room, digging through his drawers before pulling out a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a grey pair of pants. He shoved them into Sherlock's arms, and showed him to the restroom, "Get. Changed. I don't want to see you until you've cleaned up completely. Then promise me you will eat an entire meal. After that, you are going to apologize to Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade for ignoring their attempts at _helping _you.__

 _ _He stormed out of the flat, leaving Sherlock in a shocked state, and hailed a cab to the Yard, where he knew Sherlock would eventually show up.__

**Author's Note:**

> I will be editing this later (as it is really short). This is really just a practice draft for now. Please lemme know what you think so I can make it better.


End file.
